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The night was unseasonably warm, the kind of weather that would have people out and about even to a fairly late hour. But there wasn’t much along Yetta Road that would have people wandering around there at this time - it was mostly businesses there, and most of them were shuttered hours before. One establishment was still open, but it wasn’t meant to be for much longer: the Slither Wing, a bar that was modestly popular earlier in the day but not late at night when the walk home was dark and silent. It got its name from an ancient creature believed to be a Bug and Fighting-type forebear of the morphs, and its name was a warning to those who went in there - if you Bugged anyone, you’d be Fighting soon enough.

No one was bugging anyone at the moment, though. In fact, there was only one person in there, a Nidoking wearing a tidy button-down shirt and nice pants who was currently cleaning up the bar area. It seemed like a quiet night, a good chance to close up without incident, just as he preferred it…

It stopped being quiet in a hurry when the door opened, and the Nidoking saw a group enter - a LARGE group, relative to his normal. And everything about them spoke of trouble - just as they wanted it.

“Oy! Barkeep! Get us some drinks! And don’t even THINK about charging us for them!” The Flareon’s name was Otom, and within the group he was known as the Furious Flame. The biggest of the gang, and some would say the meanest, but only if they didn’t know what kind of sinister souls lay under the rest of them. The NEO Gang’s big bruiser, strength and intimidation were his game, he would MAKE you comply with what he commanded, by force if necessary. And those flames of his got furiously hot whenever he was in a rage…and given that he was generally pretty angry, they weren’t exactly tepid to start with. He was still smaller than the Nidoking was, but not by as much as your average Flareon morph, and he certainly made himself look even bigger with his attitude. He wore a lot of leather, studded with spikes to up the tough guy impression even further.

“…My name is Gurem, not ‘barkeep’,” the Nidoking replied somewhat stiffly. “And I’m sorry, I was just about to close up-”

“Well, now you’re NOT closing up, and you’d better get us what we want or you’ll be closing DOWN, for GOOD.” A jet of flame escaped Otom’s muzzle, putting Gurem’s objections to rest as he sighed and halted his cleaning. “That’s more like it. We’ll be over in the corner, DON’T take too long.” He strode off, but the rest were soon to follow…

“Not a bad dive, looks like…might have to make this a regular meeting joint for a bit.” The Jolteon’s name was Gorumon, and within the group he was known as the Jacking Jolt. He’d never met a computer he didn’t like…to hack into and compromise, to make it start feeding information back to his system and monitoring the users who never even knew they were being watched. He knew how to hijack pretty much any communication platform, from messengers to cell phones to e-mail to even faxes and land lines, and all of that was done for the purpose of getting all the information they could ever want for the NEO Gang’s schemes. His garb was lightweight and athletic, fitting his lithe frame.

“Ugh, a bit too dry for my tastes…but I suppose it’ll do for a while.” The Vaporeon’s name was Imaj, and within the group he was known as the Tainted Water. Outwardly he might have looked calm and collected, but within his heart lay some truly sadistic inclinations…nothing gave him more glee and finding a nice spot to dump some convenient chemicals into the waterways, to be channeled to the homes and businesses all around and deliver doses of something devious to unsuspecting folks. The chaotic riots were truly his work above all, though he wouldn’t take credit for the idea itself - that went to the one above him - but the pride in seeing it all come together, that was what truly made life grand. A few people eating it in the subsequent catastrophe was hardly going to affect that enjoyment. He wore a flowing robe that went down to his lower legs, something easy to slip out of if he needed to slip into the water himself.

“You’d best make mine light, I don’t want to be feeling it.” The Espeon’s name was Kiali, and within the group he was known as the Breaking Mind. Psychics truly had it rough, forced to constrain the use of their powers to avoid imposing on others…Kiali refused to comply with such nonsense, his power was meant to be used, meant to be imposed on others, and he WOULD do so as he wished. As the most intelligent and strongest thinker of the group, Kiali was of course the one who did a lot of planning and coordination to make sure they went off without a hitch, and being a Psychic meant he was also the ‘alarm’ of the NEO Gang, and their quick way out of trouble. But his favorite thing to do was get a vulnerable mind in front of him, and use his powers, along with some help from the others, to wear them down until they broke, falling to his power and allowing him to take control…the scripts he implanted would turn a troublesome obstacle into a part of the plan itself, furthering their ambitions and demoralizing the supporters of the broken ones. He wore a short, tightly-cinched robe that only just came partly down his legs, light and airy material that seemed barely capable of guarding against the elements.

“Make any mistakes and I’ll make you believe YOU were a mistake.” The Umbreon’s name was Agzi, and within the group he was known as the Cruel Shadow. Kiali loved breaking minds, but Agzi was just as instrumental most of the time - the group’s foremost interrogator and tormentor, he gleefully tortured victims until they broke down, exploiting their emotional vulnerabilities with a sadism that was almost terrifying even to the rest of the NEO Gang. Taking such pleasure out of their pain, ruining them and leaving them easy prey for Kiali to shatter their minds and turn them into their puppets…that was Agni’s life, and his dream. He wore a vest and shorts, all black, with pockets hidden inside the vest containing a variety of pain-causing implements, just in case he felt like it.

“Hm, not bad with the fragrances…I’ll bet we could do a little better, though.” The Leafeon’s name was Itsum, and within the group he was known as the Subtle Plant. Looking at him he seemed out of place - barely larger than Kiali, and with a gentle appearance that seemed to make him look innocent, and wearing the most casual clothing of them all, a T-shirt and shorts with a foliage motif. His nonthreatening appearance worked well to his advantage, as no one noticed the bugs he planted - usually in plants, real or artificial, where they were hard to find. He was also good at making powders that he could spread to dull one’s senses, make them sleep, or even just make them blank for a minute or so.

“At least we’re out of the heat…FAR too warm out there for my liking.” The Glaceon’s name was Furaab, and within the group he was known as the Arresting Cold. “Cold” described everything about him quite accurately - from his icy temperament, to his natural element, to what he used to get people under control. Freezing bondage and restraint was his specialty, and he made ample use of it when his targets were being troublesome…or just when he felt like it, even if they weren’t. The combination of him, Agzi, and Kiali was pretty hard to overcome - restraint, torture, and reformatting was a reliable way of twisting someone. Of course, you couldn’t do that quickly enough to make it work on everyone, but for those key targets, it was exactly what they needed. And if they needed to make a getaway, it was good for keeping interlopers from holding them back. The jacket and thick pants he was wearing seemed too heavy for someone complaining about the heat, but they were actually just as effective at keeping heat OUT as in.

“Oh, this place is ky-uuuuute!~ And with a handsome stud tending to it, I think I’m gonna like it here.” The Sylveon’s name was Biaha, and within the group he was known as the Sinister Seducer. Where the others tended to interact with others as little as possible, or only for their own fun, Biaha was the NEO Gang’s schmoozer, the one who cozied up to people and got information out of them, or used his charms to confuse them, plant misinformation, or draw them into traps. While he made a show of being open and almost slutty, sex was more his weapon than anything, and he was pretty good at using it. Even now he was almost flaunting it, wearing a very loose and open vest that seemed too tight to actually close and a pair of tights that only did the bare minimum to cover what was down below, and making it obvious that ‘male’ did not extend to the seeder role. Not that that was surprising - when you were a bunch of Eeveelutions, your brothers had a fairly reasonable chance to be ‘mothers’ if they were to reproduce, and their group was split evenly down the middle.

Off on the back of the bar they gathered, chattering amongst each other. As Gurem brought the drinks to them, he noticed what looked like some kind of globe on the table, something that clearly hadn’t been there before the group had come in. He could hear a faint static coming from it, and could only surmise that it was some kind of wireless speaker, though what they needed it for here he had no idea. And perhaps it was better for him not to know…though, with ears like his, it would be impossible to miss what it was saying no matter where he was. Clearly they couldn’t have been too afraid of him overhearing something…

The NEO Gang wasn’t concerned with him at all - so long as the Nidoking didn’t try any funny business, they had no use for him, not for the time being. They needed to tread a bit more cautiously to start, until they were ready to get things rolling. And they had one they were waiting on to help them with that, so they were content to kill time.

“Man, this city is such fucking PUSSY WEAK BULLSHIT town,” ranted Otom with a wave of his hand. “Have you seen the signs around here? ‘Your type is valid. Your types are valid.’ ‘We may be different types but the gods made us all together.’ PAH!”

“I’ll bet they aren’t even good at practicing what they preach, either,” agreed Agzi. “‘All types are valid, but if you’re a Dark-type you’ll never have any kind of power position.’ Just like most places.”

“Bah, they’d see it if they actually lived like we were meant to live! Types aren’t supposed to get along! They’re supposed to clash, to fight each other tirelessly, and whoever comes out on top is the victor, and the rest oughta BEG to be slaves! But nooooo, we all gotta be peace and love and STUPID SHIT! Because that’s how ‘modern society’ works, like it’s any good at all!”

“Too true,” agreed Kiali. “Modern society is nothing but a caricature of life, artificial and meaningless. We existed for a long time without all this ‘modernity’ nonsense. And with every advancement comes rules, arbitrary rules that do nothing but inhibit us. It’s made us all soft…people don’t even fight the idea that they can’t use their natural powers except when THEY let us. I’m supposed to keep from reading anyone’s mind just because they might not like the ‘invasion of privacy’? If they don’t want their privacy invaded, they shouldn’t be around a Psychic-type. Your discomfort doesn’t mean my rights as a Psychic should be limited.”

“It’s ‘cuz all the WRONG people are making the rules,” said Biaha with his natural sultry lilt, even though he wasn’t trying to seduce anyone at the table - not that he needed to, he only needed ask and he’d surely have a taker. “People who have no business being in charge slapping down laws because they feel like it. Oh, it’s for SAFETY? Did you ever think that maybe we don’t WANT to make it safe? Why should we have to compromise OUR vision just because a few people might die? See, this is why it ALL needs to go. Wipe it off the map, start over. Only the RIGHT people get to decide what society’s like. Let nature show you who’s the best to decide. And of course, who could be better but the line of the most adaptable species in existence?”

“Our brethren will hopefully see our side soon enough,” Agzi said with a nod. “And we can create a society that people can be proud of. None of this ‘modern sensibility,’ no more denying natural selection, you fight or you die, and those who prevail will be the ones worthy of going on. None of this modern technology nonsense getting in the way, just good old-fashioned duking it out and living as nature intended for us.”

“Hey, I LIKE the modern technology!” protested Gorumon.

“Well, you’ll have to suck it up. You have better uses for your electricity.”

“I’m not sure he does, he doesn’t seem to use it for getting away from anyone,” stated Imaj with a smirk.

“It was a fucking Marowak!” snapped the Jolteon. “What was I supposed to do?!”

“Drop trou and let him plug that needy cunt of yours~” teased Biaha.

“Tch…like I’d just let him nut in me like that, I’m not a slut like YOU are.”

“Ah, you pour soul, depriving yourself of type-advantaged dick like it meant something. Really, you need to seek your sources out, I get around just fine, Kiali has Agzi, Itsum has Otom and Furaab, and you’re always just settling and not getting what your poor little twat craves.”

“Why do we let himself call himself the Jacking Jolt anyway?” asked Itsum with a grin. “It’s not like-”

“-he has anything to jack with,” Gorumon drawled sarcastically along with Itsum as the Leafeon finished the line. “Guh huh huh, definitely haven’t made THAT fuckin’ joke 816 times before!”

“All of you can it or we’re going to stuff something in ALL of your holes,” muttered Imaj with an eye roll.

“Threatening me with a good time? Not your best approach,” snickered Biaha.

“I COULD just freeze his muzzle shut,” offered Furaab.

“You don’t know HOW tempted I am to take you up on that,” groaned Imaj.

The chatter all ceased in an instant, though, when the globe crackled to life on the table. Suddenly all eight became rapt in attention as they focused on the globe, and a voice came in. It was somewhat high-pitched and distorted, making it hard to tell who or what was on the other end, but the words were coming through clearly enough. “NEO Gang. You’ve situated yourselves in Greenwall, I presume?”

“Finally more or less settled in,” affirmed Otom. “Took a couple weeks for us to get housing, we’re all a bit spread out to keep from being too obvious.”

“Good. They’ll find out eventually, but by that time we should be in the process. I don’t need to tell you all how important this is…this will be the last test. If we can bring down Greenwall, it will mean that nothing will be above our abilities. Then we can start phase two: spreading the word to our like-minded compatriots in other places, recruiting them to follow our protocol. As they fall one by one, the New Existential Order can establish its precedents for the new society, showing those fools what they’ve abandoned and what a society of the worthy is truly like.”

“They think artificially evading death means their lives have meaning…it’s about time to show them the truth, that they’re nothing but food and fertilizer for their betters,” Agzi spoke with a toothy grin of malice.

“Indeed. And I chose Greenwall specifically for that reason, they have a rather nauseating approach that I detest…this whole ‘type equality’ nonsense is just a flagrant slap in the face of the competition we were created and built on. It will be a pleasure showing the world just how big a failure that entire idea is, when they see Greenwall turn into a burning wreck because they thought they could suppress our people into compliance.”

“We’ll make it happen, Boss, you can count on it,” Imaj declared. “We’ve been scoping a few things out already. They like to present a clean image, but they’ve got plenty of malcontents we can get to start disrupting things, distracting them and giving us our openings. They’ve got no defenses on their systems that’ll keep us out, and by the time they know we’re doing anything, it’ll be too late to stop it.”

“Good. Continue to gather information and look into preparations. Keep your profile low, our moment needs to come only after we’ve set the new world in motion. By this time next year, Greenwall will be a disaster zone, and we’ll be able to revel in the glory of our dominion.”

“I hope you’ll join us in person then, boss,” Itsum remarked.

“I’ll be glad to. I need to stay in the background for now, still, so that I can get you out of trouble if need be. Remember, my location needs to be kept a complete secret.”

“We’ll die before compromising you, Boss,” Gorumon said earnestly.

“I’ll do all I can to make sure it doesn’t come to that. Our lives are the only ones that matter, I would hate to lose one to the unworthy. Right, that’s all. We’ll meet again in three days.”

“Got it!” The NEO Gang finished down what was left of their drinks, not much by that point, and made their way for the door. Only Biaha stayed behind, having designs on something else that might have been a tasty treat for him…and a useful source of information, on top of that. The others were content to depart and head their separate ways, perhaps scope a few things out in the peace and quiet of the night before heading in.

None of them had realized that the wheels of their downfall had already been set in motion…